


Like The Sun Going Down On Me

by Edwardina



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>322 coda.  After their plans don't go the way they should, Finn and Kurt need to cry it out.  And hug it out.  And get a bunch of other stuff out of their systems, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Sun Going Down On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Elton John's "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me." Thanks to Kate for her keen eye and kabooming spirit!

At that moment, arm around Kurt's shoulder, the satin back of Kurt's vest and the nudge of his shoulder and the way blue eyes flicked quickly up to find his were the only things pinning Finn to the spinning earth. The choir room was just a blur, Rachel distant. He held Kurt in tight, like he was a support beam, and Kurt simply let him. Maybe he was keeping Kurt upright too.

"I got in," Rachel said.

Relief spiked, and Finn smiled. Then the relief faded, replaced inside with hurt that spun out wildly into a million other things, like the realization that suddenly, New York was only a part of Rachel's future.

Suddenly he didn't know how to feel, how to act, what to even say. None of them did. For an endless minute they all stood there in silence.

They'd made plans, the three of them, and now all that confidence, all that planning and consideration was just – laughable. 

Rachel had unwrapped the golden ticket. It was Rachel. Rachel, all along. Now Kurt and Finn stood there alone. Their futures had just dropped out from under them. The unknown world so vast that it was just endless, drastic vertigo that made standing there in the choir room at McKinley feel even stranger than it already did, having graduated and everything. Gravity had shifted. Their entire lives, changed in one minute. We're not even students, Finn kept thinking stupidly. We don't belong here. We don't belong anywhere.

"Rachel," he finally heard Kurt say in a raw whisper, "don't you dare be upset. You deserve it. Be happy, okay? Just be happy. Finn and I will..." He paused as Finn looked down at him. "We'll work it out. It will work out."

He kept his arm around Kurt as they stood there, congratulating Rachel with empty, blundering words, even as her tears of shock and apology flowed. Finn honestly thought he might fall over if he didn't hang on to Kurt; he thought Kurt might move away to Rachel and leave him standing on his own, the only one without a future, because Kurt – it had to be a mistake. He was destined for New York. He was all packed up and everything. Rachel came to them instead.

Together, Finn and Kurt hugged her while she cried for their dead dreams. For Finn's. For Kurt's. For the silly idea that they would get together for Friday night dinners in New York and regale each other with tales of screwy acting exercises and all the quirky art students they were sure to meet.

Finn said, "It's okay. Kurt's right. You deserve this, Rachel."

And he meant it. And even though he was shell-shocked, disappearing even as he stood there, he kissed Rachel's dark, silky hair and held the back of her head while Kurt patted her back. Their hands clumsily struck against each other's in her hair as they petted her, stroked her, comforted her, but Finn honestly didn't care, and Kurt didn't seem to either. Finn rubbed Rachel's hair and Kurt's hand and pulled them both in tight, and they hugged him back.

That afternoon, Finn laid in his bed for hours and stared at the picture of him and his dad. Stupid kid. He was just some chubby future loser who was going to grow up and make a complete ass out of himself in front of James Lipton, thinking he had an ounce of what it took to be accepted to the Actors Studio, thinking he could give it a shot in the dark and make it because he was special, because he was the exception. God, he was an idiot! At least his dad had done something with his life, something real.

He'd lost track of what time it was when Kurt knocked, then slumped in the doorway, looking as exhausted as Finn felt. Maybe it was dinnertime or something. Finn wasn't hungry.

But Kurt said, "I feel like crap."

It was slightly comforting that even Kurt had no more eloquent way to declare his misery.

"Me too."

Kurt stood there for a moment. Outside the sun was on its way to lazily sinking behind the horizon, everything all golden and on the edge of summer and totally meaningless in Finn's life. It was getting dimmer and dimmer in his room, the leaves letting the day's final rays of sunlight through them, but Finn felt no urge to flick on his football lamp. He just wanted to let the sun set already and for darkness to fall on him, and to sleep forever – or at least until the acute pain in his chest went away. He made no effort to move and didn't say anything. He had nothing to say. Finally, Kurt sighed.

"You're the only person in the whole world who can relate to how I feel right now." His voice was low, breathy. He was trying not to cry.

"Like crap," Finn repeated dully.

"Have you told Carole? About the letter?"

"No. Not yet. You told Burt?"

"No." Kurt huffed, touched the cuff on his wrist to the corner of his eye, and shook his head.

"Come in," Finn told him, "and close the door. If we're gonna cry, we might as well get it over with in private, right?"

As Kurt closed Finn's door with a soft click, Finn tucked his cheek against his pillow stubbornly, staring up at the picture of his dad for another few seconds before reaching out and turning the picture face-down on his nightstand. Rachel's senior portrait followed. It wasn't that he didn't want to see their faces. It was more like he didn't want them to see his loser face. He was probably gonna cry.

Arms tucked around his own waist, Kurt slowly wandered around Finn's bed, then lowered himself onto the other side it, squeezing in beside him, awkwardly close at the shoulders. Finn's mattress wasn't the biggest and Kurt had shot up a lot since his shrimpy sophomore days. He was taller now. But somehow, Finn didn't care that it was a tight fit, and he didn't care that it was Kurt beside him.

At one point in his life he would've said, _Dude, do you mind, I'm kind of lying here already._ Or he would've found an excuse to get up, pretending to want to shower or just whatever to get a little more space between him and Kurt, who had this tendency to fix Finn's crooked tie or put a hand on his arm while talking. He might've gotten kinda uncomfortable or embarrassed or whatever.

But who were they, now? Who was he, if not the quarterback, if not the glee stud, if not bound for the stage? Who was Kurt if NYADA didn't want him? God, Finn just really didn't give a crap. Stuff like Kurt being gay honestly wasn't important anymore and it was hard to believe it was ever a major deal. He'd slow-danced with the guy and lived with him for two years, and what Kurt had said was completely true. There was just no one else, literally no one else in the world, who could understand how bad he felt right then. It wasn't just not getting into college. It was that it had been the three of them, Rachel and Finn and Kurt, and now he and Kurt were going to be left behind.

Without a second of thought or hesitation, Finn flopped to his side on the mattress and locked Kurt into an abrupt hug, arm hooking right around his chest and bicep, face smushing awkwardly into the shoulder of Kurt's vest. After a second, Kurt just lifted one arm and hugged him back, hand as delicate as Rachel's would have been along Finn's shoulder but big, warm, and most of all, heavy with misery.

"What are you going to do?" Finn asked Kurt's shoulder.

"I don't know," Kurt whispered, breath feathery light and pained. "I don't even want to tell anyone. It's not just disappointing, it's humiliating. I mean, what do I have to do? I pulled out all the stops with my audition and it meant nothing. Everyone, including me, was so sure I was going to get in. And I know I'm going to have to tell Dad and Carole soon, before they throw me the New York-themed party I've been not-so-subtly dropping hints about, but I just can't tonight. Thank God, my dad's at the garage, so I mean, that gives me a little bit of time. But I can't even start to try to make other plans, because every time I make a plan and think I can count on something or have a little hope, it turns out I can't, and it just hurts, and – I don't know, Finn, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I'm sorry," Finn whispered back.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry about Pace."

Finn knew what he had to do about that, and about Rachel and NYADA, but Kurt didn't ask, and for that, he was grateful.

They didn't say anything for a long time.

Everything hurt. Finn's chest ached; his eyes kept watering over even though they were squeezed shut tightly; his jaw felt sore from clenching. But Kurt smoothed a gentle hand up his shoulder and rubbed his back like he had with Rachel, in soothing little circles, so it took Finn that whole time to realize Kurt was crying, too. Buckets. Rivers. The starched white collar of Kurt's shirt was soaked through with tears, but it took Finn's fractured mind forever to notice.

"Hey," he murmured, feeling like a self-centered tool, "it's okay, dude... it's okay."

Kurt's chest hitched, and something in Finn rose up and took over as he felt Kurt's head shake, his face hot and wet with tears.

"I thought I was in. I thought I had it."

"Hey," Finn said, bracing Kurt's bicep with his hand and giving it a firm squeeze. "It's okay."

"Don't let me go, okay," Kurt said, his face pink and scrunched.

"I won't," Finn said dutifully.

Kurt's arm slid around his shoulder blade in a tight twine of desperation, and Finn gave him an awkward cuddle, pulling him into his chest like he would if this was Rachel. He knew he couldn't say anything, so he just patted Kurt's back, trying to be as soothing, like in the classroom. Right then only Finn's shadowed room was real; only this mattered. Everything else had suddenly lost meaning. The structure of morning-school-football-glee-homework-dates; the way kids at school dressed and the way they looked down on others for dressing differently or not having a certain kind of shoes. The State Championship. Sectionals, Regionals, Nationals. None of it meant anything. Not to the Actors Studio, and not to NYADA, and not to Finn. All that mattered was the only thing he was capable of doing right then: following the dip of Kurt's spine under the slippery back of his vest and petting him like a cat while he cried, intense and futile. Finn had seen Kurt cry a lot, but not actually let out deep, chesty sobs.

It didn't feel good. None of it. He stared in a distant way at the pattern on Kurt's vest and tried to remember if he knew what it was called. All he knew was that it wasn't paisley.

After a little while, sniffling, Kurt pulled himself away. His face was flushed, his eyelashes stuck in spikes, and Finn could see the weight of the world in his crushed features. What stuck out the most was simply his nose, though. It didn't stick out in a bad way. It was just... Kurt's nose, straight and ungainly and familiar, like the one familiar thing Finn had seen in what felt like days.

"Thanks. You've got good holding skills," Kurt managed shakily. "You clearly have a lot of experience in comforting sobbing drama queens."

"A little bit. Want me to stop now?" Finn asked. He'd kind of lost perspective; had he been hugging Kurt for an hour, or a minute? Had this day stretched on for an entire year?

"No," said Kurt shakily, taking his hand from Finn's shoulder wipe at his face. "I thought you might be weirded out and maybe take out a restraining order if I clung to you any longer."

"Nah, I'm not weirded out. There's no one else I'd rather be with right now," Finn said, the utter honesty of it staggering and yet somehow comforting, like it was coming from the deepest well within him – that reliable, familiar place that was totally him and knew what he liked and what he wanted. The part that said, _Yeah, that's an awesome song_ , but which had never once said, _Yeah, I think being an actor is what I was born to do!_ "I know it's not manly or whatever to say this, but I need this, and like you said... you're the only person who understands how I feel right now."

Kurt gave him a pained smile, eyes a wet, teary mix of fondness and pure sorrow, and Finn's internal processes halted completely.

Everything in him was telling him the same thing, all at once. The unreliable place that told him to throw away the idea of college and then grab at the idea of being an actor even though he had almost zero experience; the scared and overemotional place that had convinced him proposing to Rachel was the answer to all of his confusion; the steely determined place where he got all his best leadership material; even the deep place in him that so truly loved REO Speedwagon and his mom and that feeling he got on game days.

Kurt's expression lingered, even though he realized after a few moments that Finn had frozen while staring at him, then it changed slowly to something that looked like confused concern.

Finn could hardly think. His thinking was really messed up, actually. He wasn't sure he knew how to think about anything anymore, even though his brain was trying to work against the push of his own muscles as he clasped his hand to Kurt's face.

Kurt blinked in surprise, and Finn listened to him exhale.

"Right now, I just want to kiss you," Finn said, and though his heart was beating harder in his chest than he could ever remember it beating before, and he knew it was wrong, messed up, and stupid, he felt like he didn't even have a life to mess up anymore, and every place in him was split between the pain of the day and the sharp desire to do this.

"Like... in a brotherly way," Kurt said, the amused _obviously – right?_ implicit even though his voice was high again.

"No," Finn whispered hollowly. "Not in a brotherly way."

" _What_." It was just a little exhale. Shock. Finn could literally feel Kurt's face heating under his hand. "No, you don't. You don't know what you're –"

Finn cut him off with one surge forward, crushing back whatever protest Kurt had with one mash of his lips. Somehow, nothing about it was tentative. It was weird and there was no denying that it was completely off-kilter from anything familiar, but all in one instant it had happened, and nothing could take it back or change the fact that Finn was kissing his stepbrother. On the lips.

Pulling back, he could feel Kurt's lips slowly part from his and the hot rush of breath that followed hanging between the both of them.

"Finn," Kurt huffed, wounded. "It's _me_."

"I know."

"And you – it's you. You're not gay. Oh my God, you're my stepbrother!" Finn could feel Kurt's chest struggling for air. He barreled on, "It's okay. It's okay. You're upset –"

"I'm sorry," Finn whispered, trying to grapple onto something he could understand and yanking his hand away from Kurt's red face immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm a jerk. I'm such a jerk. I'm so fucking stupid."

"Finn, oh my God. Why would you – do that, why would you kiss me?"

"I don't know why," Finn panted, feeling the black hole inside him swelling massively. "I just needed to – I didn't even – think about it for even a second, and God, I just ruined everything with us forever, didn't I?"

"Are you..."

Finn waited, eyes shut, for Kurt to end with _bonkers, insane, sick in the head, losing your mind just because James Lipton thought your dramatic monologue lacked emotional nuance, happy now that you've destroyed everything it's taken us years to build together?_ He deserved it, he thought, and kept still, waiting for a tongue-lashing only Kurt would be capable of giving him.

"...regretting... it?" Kurt finished weakly.

"God, a little – I mean, I just kissed my stepbrother, who doesn't even like me that way anymore and has a boyfriend who boxes and who is really short, so he could probably jab me right in the nuts," wheezed Finn, mashing his hands against his face. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

"A little? But you're not having a crisis of sexuality or, I don't know, some kind of pre-marital spat with Rachel or a mental breakdown over how totally grossed out you are by fact that you just kissed a guy, or anything like that, are you?"

"No," groaned Finn. He didn't even have the mental energy to think about Rachel right then – it was going to be over between them anyway. God, he wished it was dark outside already, so this could just be part of a weird dream and not totally, unforgivingly real, but it wasn't dark, and this was real. He could still see the print on Kurt's vest in his mind's eye and his weird little bow tie and oh-so-familiar nose.

"Okay. So there's no reason everything has to be ruined," Kurt said in a kind way. "If, you know, you're okay. With it. With me."

"Of course," replied Finn, distraught. "Of course I'm okay with you. Oh my God. I'm more than okay with you, like I didn't just make that totally obvious. Oh my God, I shouldn't be telling you that! I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Finn," said Kurt, with a tinge of impatience, "just – stop. Look at me. Look."

Reluctantly, Finn let Kurt pull his hands away from his face by the wrists so his shame was on full display and his pulse was thudding there under Kurt's firm thumbs. As he focused, Kurt smiled a wonky, unreadable smile for him.

"If that was your one big foray into... exploring your sexuality," he said, measured, "I'm, you know, glad it was with me. As weird as it is – and I know it's definitely out there, it sounds crazy to even be saying – I'm glad it was me. I mean, I want us to be brothers. And friends. And to know that we can just be ourselves with each other, because we're at home," his voice broke, and Finn could tell the upset was rising in him, "and home is where we can be safe and not worry. And if you want me to let it go right now, I will, as long as you promise not to ever abuse the fact that – I love you."

Finn's heart raced. He was on the precipice of something so huge it was frightening, something that was coming out of nowhere from the rubble, but he wasn't as scared as he was electrified. He knew Kurt loved him the way he loved Kurt, with a simple love, hard-earned but something that wasn't going to fade away like the noise of the hallways of McKinley or the thunderous applause of an audience at a show choir competition. He wasn't afraid of that.

"But I don't want to let it go, unless you just hate me now or something."

Kurt was looking at him with sharp eyes. "Keep up, dummy. I just told you I don't hate you. Kind of the opposite, actually."

"What I meant was, I want to kiss you again," said Finn. He was past throwing caution to the wind and past pretending fear wasn't a part of his vocabulary. He was jumping right into the vertigo. "But I don't want you to hate me. I want all that brother stuff, too."

"Oh my God," he heard Kurt mouth, barely letting any air out. He almost expected an annoyed thwack on the shoulder and for Kurt to shove up off the bed and say something eye-rolly, but instead, Kurt just let Finn's arms go, snagged at his collar with both hands, and drew him over as he wriggled onto his back. Finn was pulled right into a kiss, something hungry from the start, with Kurt shaking all over underneath him as Finn let his weight down heavily over him.

Kurt wasn't petite, like Rachel or Quinn, Finn realized with some shock, cutting the kiss in half with a gasp. His body was different, more muscular, more broad-chested, and even though there was a confusion of good, girly smells like the kind that Finn associated with Rachel's beauty routine and her hair after deep-conditioning days, there was the sharp musk of cologne, too, and Kurt's chest pressing up with desperate breaths, flat and wide.

For a moment they just breathed in each other's faces, Kurt seeming as stunned as he was about the fact that Finn was suddenly on top of him.

"You feel different," Finn whispered.

"So do you."

But after a moment, Finn edged in again, and felt Kurt's hands tighten in his lapels and tug on his flannel with unexpected strength, and that was when he realized that Kurt wanted to kiss him, too. It was enough to make Finn's eyelashes flutter with the wave of heat crawling over his skin and prickling in his face. He was used to the feel of Rachel's mouth, sometimes slick with lip gloss, but Kurt's was just as silky and their lips clung as easily as anyone else's, though the tentativeness was shot through with shocks of adrenaline as Finn realized over and over and over that this was how Kurt's mouth felt – this was how it felt to kiss a guy, to kiss Kurt.

They kissed slowly, a little carefully, but the way he could feel Kurt responding to him, clinging to his shirt and breathing so deeply and desperately, was insane. They couldn't hide it, he thought dimly, even though he was trying to be slow and romantic, like with Rachel, because they were guys – Kurt smelled and sounded and even curved a little like a girl but he was totally a guy.

When Finn leaned back, needing air and needing to cool off, Kurt breathed, all goading and seductive, "French me."

That was it. That was when any last ties they had to earth, anchored there together in the mire of failure, snapped totally.

Holy shit, Finn found himself repeating silently, hardening in his jeans as he did as he was told and parted Kurt's mouth with his tongue. Kurt flicked at him, hot and wet, razing his senses, then groaned as Finn licked back deeply in response. Kurt's hands grabbed his jaw, grabbed his face and scritched through his hair, eager, and Finn touched the sides of his vest, thumbs sliding over pockets. Kurt's mouth was open to him, so vulnerable, but his tongue was quick and slid against Finn's in a teasing way that just made Finn want to chase it. Forever.

The orange sunset was just barely getting past Finn's curtains to make stripes on the wall, but through his lashes Finn could still see Kurt's mouth, tempting and red all on its own, the shine of product on the fussy flip of his hair, and the way his flushed face had burned away any traces of tears. He could hear whimpers getting caught in Kurt's chest before they could make it out and feel him tipping up one knee, sliding them thigh-on-thigh, Kurt's tight-fitting brown trousers against Finn's lazy blue denim. Just the slightest lift of his hips rubbed them together right where it counted.

"Oh my God," Finn got out, the hammer of blood in his veins just stupefying heat.

"Too much?" Kurt asked, huffing.

"No," groaned Finn.

"You're hard," Kurt whispered. "I can feel it."

"God."

"Do you like it?"

"...You _have_ done it with a guy, right?"

"Not a guy I'm kind of related to," Kurt said in a small way, making Finn shudder. Not that he needed the reminder, but it was still crazy that they were doing this. Together. Kurt sounded downright shy as he continued, "I don't think you're actually... into guys, so... I don't know what you like."

"Fuck. Well, I'm – pretty into this – but I don't know, either."

"You wanna kiss me again?" Kurt asked, eliciting another full-body tremor. A casual arm wrapped around Finn's neck; it felt nothing the shape or weight of a girl's arm. It felt strong. But it was Kurt – the graze of fingertips at Finn's collar was soft. "Or you can grind on me if you want to. I like that."

"Ohh," said Finn out loud. It was clicking all of a sudden: Kurt was a talker. Quinn had been, too; even though they hadn't ever gone all the way, she really liked to tease, get Finn's motor running, then leave him hanging. Rachel wasn't so much into talking, except to say _this is perfect_ or _I love you so much_ or _slower, please? Thank you._ Then she'd talk afterwards. Sometimes a lot. "So you like the idea of me rubbing my dick all over you."

Kurt let out a puff breath that sounded like Finn had done something totally stupid.

"Yeah," he winced, thigh flexing, hips bending, and Finn totally got it. He humped back.

"You can feel that?" he breathed, pushing his dick right into Kurt on purpose, their zips an awkward mash.

"God, yeah."

"I'm gonna keep going –"

"Do it. Fuck, Finn." All breath.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck! Just like that."

"Oh my God." Finn buried his burning face punitively in his pillow that was crooked under Kurt's shoulder, heaving and huffing, scarcely able to believe he was getting off with his stepbrother – especially like this, right then, when they'd spent so long getting used to each other and had just built something strong and solid enough that they were going to be living together in New York. Now they had nothing, and it just made him push even harder, plunge even deeper; he wanted to burn up and Kurt obviously wanted to burn with him. He could feel it, now, Kurt's dick, as hard as his, right alongside his hip. "You like this, too."

"Yeah," Kurt whimpered.

"I'm not gonna be able to stop," Finn huffed.

"Don't stop –" Kurt's hands, soft and sweaty, grasped at Finn's face, but Kurt's eyes were closed, brow furrowed. "Don't stop. You can fuck yourself on me. You can –" Kurt broke to pull for air, thigh curling around Finn, " – do whatever you want," he finished voicelessly. "You can do whatever you want to me –" 

"I'm gonna fuck you just like this," Finn grunted, "till I cream right here, right on you." He knew his old bedsprings were squeaking pitifully but his hips didn't care. Kurt's pelvis right under his was asking for it. Kurt was asking for it. Kurt wanted him to do this. He felt Kurt roll under him pleadingly, his hips trying to swivel against Finn's. "You like that idea? Me doing whatever I want with you?"

Kurt nodded, and Finn squeezed his eyes shut, pushing him into another kiss. The wild inhale and rise of Kurt's chest against his was the last thing Finn could hold on for. His breath stuttered and his pelvis flexed helplessly as he unloaded, right in his jeans, with zero shame or attempts to stave it off or choke it back, and the way Kurt whispered, "Oh my God. Finn. Finn, yes," and cradled his face kept him in it for what felt like an eternity – an eternity where he was creaming himself and it was soaking through to his stepbrother's skinny pants and not only did his stepbrother not care, he was _into_ it.

He became aware of Kurt fumbling between them, struggling with his belt and fly and slipping his hand into his own pants even though he was pinned under Finn's weight, and groaned. For a second Finn thought maybe reality might kick in and he'd suddenly be wondering what the fuck was going on, but it didn't, because reality was horrible and this was so good it hurt.

"Let me," he mumbled fuzzily.

Kurt was silent for a second, then whispered silkily, "Why don't you just kiss me? That was good."

"French you," Finn said knowingly, and Kurt's mouth parted, his eyes meeting Finn's for a split second before his lids fell and he nodded. "Okay. Come here."

Body heavy but buzzing, alive, boxers soaking in a satisfying way, Finn slid himself to his side and pulled Kurt with him, almost like they'd been before, holed up crying like idiots onto each other, but now he felt... purposeful. He could just see Kurt's face, paler than everything even though color was burning in his skin, and felt a stab of real fondness as he leaned in to kiss him.

His hand found Kurt's wrist, which he just squeezed for a warm moment before pulling it demandingly, fishing Kurt's hand back out of his pants.

"Oh my God, hey," Kurt mouthed urgently, "you don't need t–"

But the words became a muffled sob as Finn's mouth covered his and his hand fearlessly shoved its way into Kurt's pants, scrabbling over the hard-on caught under cotton briefs before he fought his way into the y-front and palmed at it, bare. His own pulse, which had been thrumming smoothly, jumped in his veins; it wasn't unfamiliar, just totally surprising somehow that Kurt was more like him than unlike him. The bow tie and – whatever that pattern was – didn't mean a freaking thing. Kurt's cock was hard and arcing and Finn's fingers slid over it comfortingly, intimately. He hummed at Kurt's harsh, surprised moan and felt his shirt getting fisted tight.

It was just light enough for him to see it when Kurt threw his head back, huffing, his spine in a crazy bend, and shot off up his own vest. And on Finn's t-shirt. And his own arms. And everywhere between them. Feeling kind of proud of himself, Finn blinked, let his head hit the pillow, and found himself getting lost in a stare once again. He watched Kurt pant, eyes shut, and slowly smooth out Finn's shirt again without even opening his eyes. It wasn't until then that he realized the sun had finally disappeared, leaving what he could see of the sky orange, pink, and purple, and his room dark.

His eyes had adjusted. He could still see Kurt perfectly.

The words came out of that deep place. "Don't leave me, okay."

Kurt's eyes opened.

"I won't," he said, fingers ginger as they straightened Finn's collar.

"You can touch me," Finn added. "I mean, I want to touch you. Unless you hate me after all."

"No," Kurt breathed laughingly. "You big lug."

"I hate that you didn't get into NYADA," Finn told him, hand sliding up Kurt's waist. "I hate it. You know how bad I wanted that for you? For Rachel, too, because she wanted you there? I even wanted it for me because I thought, 'Well, no matter what I do, at least Kurt and Rachel will be in NYADA. No matter what I do, they'll be okay.' They're freaking jerks for not admitting you. But I'm the worst. Out of the three of us, I'm the most selfish, useless person – Kurt, I'm so glad you're here. I really meant it when I said there's no one else I'd rather be with right now. I think you're all that's keeping me from spinning out."

"You won't spin out. I won't let you," Kurt told him, hand sliding gently around Finn's bare neck. He sounded much more like his usual self. "I'm selfish too, and I don't want you to do any spinning unless for it's a class of some type, because I need you, and I love you. Mostly in a brotherly way, mind you."

"Thanks," Finn said, and hugged him, anchored. "Ditto."

Kurt kissed his cheek.


End file.
